


Caprice of the Divine

by salytierra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (in a way... I guess), APH Rare Pair Exchange 2017, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Demigods AU, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Historical References, Human AU, M/M, Multi, Nyotalia, SO MANY DIFFERENT ERAS AND PERIODS AND LIVES, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salytierra/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: It’s a story as old as time. Before the world lost its divinity, but long after Gaia gave birth to the greatest Gods, one of their followers tried to break a fight between two exceptional men, two Heroes, in the classic sense of the word; sons of Poseidon and Apollo, that had fallen in discord. Such was their ire that they turned it to the priest. Hurt and aggravated, he relied his offense to a dear but dangerous object of his admiration.The Goddess Nemesis heard the plies of a loyal subject and, choleric in her justice and sly in mischief, cursed the two heroes for the rest of eternity. One life after another... their souls were intertwined from then on - destined to meet in every life and only remember and recognize each other when the first drop of blood was shed by the other's fault.





	Caprice of the Divine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fanfiction4thewin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfiction4thewin/gifts).



> Written for the [The APH Rarepair Exchange 2017 ](http://aphsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) Secret Santa. My giftee was [fanfiction4thewin112](https://fanfiction4thewin112.tumblr.com/), so this story is for them, but also for all the wonderful people in the [Aph Spain rarepair chat](http://salytierra.tumblr.com/post/167779330713/aph-s-pain-rarepair-central-i-made-this), that helped me brainstorm for the scenes. (Specially to Lala, who kept sending me pictures of her books on the Aztecs at 6am. A hero!). 
> 
> The prompt I choose was soulmates, but... for some reason this ended up missing the part of soul, and of the mates. So this is just a plan reincarnation AU, hope it’s still good tho ^^
> 
> All the notes on the eras, ancient cultures and other cryptic details are at the end, numbered by the scene, but I recommend you reading the story first, see how many of them you can catch ;) 
> 
>  **Oh! But obviously, Antonio is the Child of Apollo and Arthur of Poseidon** ♥

 

_It’s a story as old as time. Before the world lost its divinity, but long after Gaia gave birth to the greatest Gods, one of their followers tried to break a fight between two exceptional men, two Heroes, in the classic sense of the word; sons of Poseidon and Apollo, that had fallen in discord. Such was their ire that they turned it to the priest. Hurt and aggravated, he relied his offense to a dear but dangerous object of his admiration._

_The Goddess Nemesis heard the plies of a loyal subject and, choleric in her justice and sly in mischief, cursed the two heroes for the rest of eternity. One life after another... their souls were intertwined from then on - destined to meet in every life and only remember and recognize each other when the first drop of blood was shed by the other's fault._

 

~~** 1 **~~

 

The child of Poseidon is a different kind of hero this time. Hero of his tribe; a valiant warrior that led the horsemen in a raid against yet another settlement and won richies in the form or grain and pelts, utensils and even some salted fish and oil. He’s proud of his victory and, in exchange for his life, the defeated chief offers four of the village’s most beautiful women for his personal use. He takes them and kills everyone else regardless of the tribute.

They are all pretty and young, but only one of them catches his eye enough; she doesn’t look subdued and resigned but glares at him with a badly reprised fierceness. He likes that, so he orders her to be prepared for him. His slaves bathe the dried blood of her brothers off her skin with clean, damp cloths and brush her hair. They give her wine and leave her in his tent, waiting for the great warrior to finish the celebratory fest with his fellow riders.

However, when he comes to find her, she charges at him with a dagger that she found among his pelts. She misses and when he grabs her wrist she struggles with him, hurting herself in the process. Apparently it’s enough, because for a second everything goes black and when they blink it off and look at each other again, there’s recognition in their eyes and the Goddesses’ angry curse from another life rings in their minds at the same time.

“Oh for Ares… she was for real.” The Child of Poseidon curses, looking around his tent and back at that woman. She looks completely different from the Hero he challenged in his past life, but he just... _knows_.

It’s a weird feeling; to have these memories unwinding in the foreground of their minds. They also remember how this is not the first time. They’ve met before in a similar situation and it ended badly as well. Are they just cursed to be enemies forever now, without rest? But their present life is stronger than those memories, the current identity and feeling covering the past in a gentle veil that is not suffocating it but feels more urgent, more authentic.

“This changes nothing.” He decides, reaching for her again. She is beautiful in this life, and he is determined to have her even though he’s well aware now of who she is.

“Never.” She swears then, and before allowing him to touch her, sinks the dagger in her own chest.

 

~~** 2 **~~

 

They grow up in the same valley, in two villages that could use some wise counselling on how to share their lands. It’s a simple story: there’s a confrontation between two young groups of farmers and some minor stone hurling. By the end of the day the teens from both sides have come to peace, except for the two of them, who are less than amused to have to deal with each other’s presence in this life as well. They ignore one another for most of it and argue for the rest, but ultimately die of old age with a two months difference.

 

~~** 3 **~~

 

The Child of Poseidon is a fisherman in the east coast of Britannia. Just making his way through life, winter after winter, trying to survive and pay his family’s tribute to Rome. Roman rule, Roman law, Rome’s blind abuse… It’s hard and humiliating, and he is as tired as every other person around him.

The child of Apollo, on the other hand, is a man of wealth and respect; a senator’s son, natural from Italica in the province of Baetica, the noble birthplace of the Emperor Hadrian and his predecessor. He is a great general, a philosopher and a lover of pleasures. Among all his brothers he’s the favorite to follow in his father’s steps, if he just proves himself a little more. His current challenge is to suppress a revolt among the Empire’s subjects in Britannia. He is smart and resourceful. It takes a few years but the rebels are all either silenced, dead or taken prisoners. His distant father dies and some time later he becomes a senator.

As a gift from the new governor of Britannia, he’s invited to a gladiator’s show. Many of the fighters were acquired after his raid and he admires their tenacity and learned capabilities. One of the gladiators catches his eye. There’s something familiar about him, maybe they saw each other on the battlefield?

The gladiator also notices him, and the spark in his gaze makes a shiver run down the senator’s spine. He is almost unsurprised when instead of taking his shot at his adversary, the gladiator aims his spear at the honor box.

A revenge, at the cost of his own life. One of many, as the Child of Poseidon remembers just before another fighter’s sword goes through his abdomen.

The senator dies minutes later, the wound in his shoulder gushing out blood amidst the frantic panic around him. But he has a challenging grin on his lips when his eyes close.

 

~~** 4 **~~

 

They grow up side by side in their next life. Neighbors and good friends since early childhood, they recover their memories at the age of eleven, playing at pretend battles from popular legends their parents tell them. The child of Poseidon yelps. It’s just a scratch on his arm but it’s enough and when the flood of memories hits them they look at each other with the hard eyes of strangers that know each other too well.

But their current life weights more, it always does, so when after three years of cold shoulders one of them shows up with an offering of bread and a stolen pitcher of wine on saturnalia, the other doesn’t turn him down. They drink and laugh and wonder what they would need to do to break the circle. But the gods never answer and they decide to put old disputes on hold for this time.

They argue too much, maybe, but through the years become each other’s main support.

At some point the Child of Poseidon realizes that he hates the other’s wife; he’s jealous of the proximity she is allowed and of the way his best friend looks at her.

More than anything else, he wants to be on the other end of that look. However, when the child of Apollo dies of a sudden illness, he grieves and marries her, taking care of her and his godchildren as well as the ones he spawns himself.

 

~~** 5 **~~

 

They just meet for a second in their next life. A simple soldier of Al-Qadir and a loyal follower of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, known as El Cid Campeador. The end of that siege is  well known and their short story - an easy guess.

 

~~** 6 **~~

 

“You looked beautiful as a wild woman, that time too.” the Child of Poseidon says one evening. Her brother’s second wife is an exotic beauty, but still as much of a lost case with the needle as the first time, when she tried to teach her and pierced her finger instead.

The Child of Apollo looks at her from under her locks. They are alone - with all the men of their household out on the steppe and the women by the river - the fire cracking softly in the center of the tent. “You mean that time you slaughtered my entire village and then tried to make me your concubine?”

“Well,if you put it like that.” But they both chuckle. As their lives fly by, their grudges counter evens out and fades in the background, the feelings evaporating and only leaving impressions behind. “So stubborn you were as well, denied me even a single kiss before killing yourself.”

“Well, what’s stopping you now?”

Her lips are soft and taste like peaches.

 

~~** 7 **~~

 

“We should stop doing this. This is not what God intended.”

“Which God?” The Child of Poseidon rearranges the neck of his lover’s habit and runs a hand through his dark locks, whispering so their voces don’t echo in the chapel. It’s always empty at night, but it would be unfortunate if somebody overheard them.

“The only God.”

“That is a weird thing for you to say. Did you renounce of your father?”

He shakes his head “It’s been too long since I last felt his presence, even when I bathe in the light of his rays. Or seen any proof of existence from any of the others. What is to tell us that they haven’t all just evaporated, or lost a battle to the one and only God?”

“I think that the fact that we are still doing this dance of life and death is proof enough that at least Nemesis still exists somewhere. Don’t you agree?”

He purses his lips and says nothing.

 

~~** 8 **~~

 

It’s their wedding night and she is as pure as her father assured his new ally she would be.

In the castle’s main hall, the lords are celebrating, with wine and a lavish banquet, their children’s union, arranged to bless their signed accord, unknownst of destiny’s play underneath.

In the bedchamber, he stares at her, frozen in the first instances of their marital duty. She sighs, hooking her legs behind his back - in a practiced way that shouldn’t be expected from a young lady that was a maiden just a few seconds ago - and rolls her hips just barely, reminding him that he’s still buried inside of her.

“Are you planning to continue, or just gonna oogle me all night, son of Apollo?”

He laughs and shakes his head, before leaning in to kiss her passionately. This is a good time in their cursed existence, a happy and lighthearted one. They will both miss it in the future.

 

~~** 9 **~~

 

His steps echo against the stone of the Huitzilopochtli temple when he advances inside, navigating the familiar corridor into the quarters of the priest he’s looking for. The jaguar pelt covering his arms and legs is still stained with blood and mud and he leaves his macuahuitl leaning against the wall, dropping his shield and headset next to it.

He finds the Child of Apollo perched on the edge of the window. His dark green robe, for once, hanging over the edge, as are the rest of his clothes, so his shoulders are bared under the locks escaping from his messy braid. He’ll need to re-do it before this night’s ceremony.

“Tired?”

The priest doesn’t turn to look at him, knowing all too well who would dare to interrupt his supposed prayer time.

“Not as much as you.”

The Child of Poseidon rests his elbows on the edge of the window next to him, staying the both of them in silence as Tenochtitlan unravels at their feet under the sunlight.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for tonight?”

“I still have some time.” He turns his head a bit, examining his old friend from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure you want to be there? I can excuse your absence if you want to. I know you don’t like that kind of ceremonies.”

“It didn’t bother me before recovering my memories, it shouldn’t now. I’ll get used to it.”

“Hm…”

“What about you? You developed in the past few lives of ours quite a fondness for the Christian God. You know He wouldn’t approve of this.”

“We are not in his domain now. Wherever we might be and this… this is necessary. Besides, it's the closest I’ve felt to my father in many a millennia.” He looks straight, blinking against the excessive brightness of the sun, already starting to descend, until spots start dancing behind his eyes and he has to close them, looking back down. “I thought I’d lost him, but now I feel his presence around me again. It’s comforting, even if his name and story are different. But I can’t say I wouldn't put it past him, to enjoy this kind of devotion too, this cult.”

“Can’t you ask him to free us from this?”

“I don’t think it works that way, I’m afraid.” The priest shots him an amused look. “Besides, I’m starting to get a hang of this, it would be a pity to quit now.”

 

~~** 10 **~~

 

In this life the Child of Poseidon is a big shot. A respected and seasoned Boatswain that followed Francis Drake from his first corsair days to the command forefront of the English navy. The sea, as always, favorable to his cause. They have destroyed the Spanish Armada and now are pursuing its battered remains to finish it off.

She is a miller’s daughter. Just one of the young girls that follows María Pita in defense of her city. A Coruña is tinted with the blood of the English invader and she looks in the eyes of the enemy official that she just pierced with her manure fork.

“A point for you.” He whispers, before collapsing. He dies right there, forgotten and buried under the veil masking his Queens shame from history.

The Child of Apollo lives a long life, but she never marries.

 

~~** 11 **~~

 

“If we continue like this people will start talking.”

“Let them talk.”

“What if we get accused of Sodomy?”

“Like half of the Men of Florence.”

He leaves the blankets and his lover’s warm embrace to pick up a sketchbook and a piece of drawing coal.

“Stay still.”

The Child of Poseidon shifts on the bed, baring his leg and adapting a seductive pose. He’s a beautiful boy, just the kind that would catch the eye of a famous master artist. A muse, an apprentice and the chore aid all at once. His slender body will be preserved forever in oil paintings of classic mythology and saints, or private sketches too lewd to be shown in public.

 _Socratic Love_ , the humanists call it nowadays, but they know that Socrates meant something very different in his day. Excuses, all excuses to draw attention away from the private feast on their livido, for the sake of art and the terrenal pleasures, that inspire the divinity of the artist’s soul, but don’t protect from the ever-watching eyes of the clergy.

 

~~** 12 **~~

 

Speaking of art; they both fall in love with another man once.

They are an important couple in high society, lovers of the good life and charm but bored to death. He’s an aspiring musician with hands of gold and the fire of Orpheus in his striking, clear eyes. They lure him in with their patronage of his arts, with gifts of exquisite instruments and invitations to balls; then seduce him with lewd whispers in front of the fireplace and lingering touches when their other guests are looking away.

It won’t be the first time they bring someone new into their unions, to spice it up a bit and remind themselves that their feelings are not part of their curse. That they can still choose others, even if they are always drawn to each other's familiarity. However, it will take them a few lifetimes to stop remembering, way too longingly, that particular man.

 

~~** 13 **~~

 

Living or travelling somewhere far away is always a treat, an exciting experience, but it doesn’t happen often. Most of the time, whatever force drives their tandem is determined to keep them within old Europe.

They notice when they start developing a sense of loyalty towards the places where they are born more often. It becomes either a source of discord or a tease, depends of the life and the relationship they manage to built through it.

 

~~** 14 **~~

 

There is one time where they never remember each other. But the world will forever. Written in the pages of history books, painted on canvas and retold in masterful tales, every reliq laying down in museums… The Child of Apollo dies first in that one, but he does so unbeaten, forever reverenced as one of the greatest masterminds in history, a hero of his motherland, a name that still inspires awe and respect.  

The Child of Poseidon is defeated with great shame even with all the resources of the British Empire backing him in his father’s domains. Puerto Bello fell in a day, why would Cartagena be any different? He is too confident, too eager to cry victory. The seas burn in flames and the sky breaks in thunder when they face each other. But they are too far, they never cross swords or aim at gunpoint. Maybe even better that way. Who knows how the story of Blas de Lezo and Edward Vernon would have ended otherwise?

 

~~** 15 **~~

 

Love between women was never easy, and it’s not better when you are both _gözdes_ in the Imperial Harem. They sneak around to exchange subtle caresses and hurried kisses under the ever-watching eyes of the eunuchs. It’s a dangerous practice. Everyone is already suspicious of how two girls that almost tore each other’s eyes out in a fight so easily became inseparable. They don’t dare to go further, to consummate their love and show it more openly. Even if they could avoid the guards, every other woman is a threat as well. The rivalry and jealousy is palpable in the air day after day, everybody wants to rise in rank and taking out the competition improves the chances of catching the young Sultan’s eye.

They could be executed even for the rumors of a possible indulgence in an affair. And while it wouldn’t be the end for them and - considering their feminine beauty in this life and the desire that it arises within the air they share - would be worth literally losing a head for, the life in the golden cage is a comfortable one, compared to the hardships of a farmer’s life in northern Europe.

They decide to indulge themselves for this once, giving up on carnal pleasure in exchange for soft pelts and sweet fruits.  

 

~~** 16 **~~

 

The Child of Apollo is a mere thief, an outlaw that build up a means of life by sneaking into the wealthy houses at night and taking everything of value he can find. His steps are light and his movements discreet, silent like a house cat as he tries to shift through the less valuable stuff in search of jewelry and gold.

“Stop! Who are you?!”

He turns around to see the house owner’s wife; she is clad in her nightgown and carrying a large, ornamental candelabrum in her hands like a sword. Shit! She was not supposed to be there… the entire family should have been out!

The next morning, the house owner returns with his sons from a business trip to find a dead man on the floor of his study, and his wife, sitting in a puddle of blood gushing from a wound in his head, just cradling his shoulders and weeping in deep sorrow.

 

~~** 17 **~~

 

They are just little girls from a fishing tribe in Aotearoa, still badly coordinated and clumsy, playing in the mud when the child of Poseidon accidentally pushes her friend off the hill. Thankfully, they are so little that their memories come back as they develop the ability to understand them, so it’s not too painful for their young brains. They grow up inseparable and agree to become Takatāpui; partners and lovers when they actually grow into their bodies. They know that their iwi, their tribe, will not care, which is strangely refreshing given everything they’ve seen and lived through in these times in history when they wanted to love each other but were reborn of the same gender.

However, they’d need their people’s approval if they ever want their union to be official. That might be a bit harder to get. They are women and so, they are protected and reverenced for their sacred gift of bearing children.

Maybe, when the time comes, they could arrange something with their families? If they agree to bear children without committing to any man and raise them together, then they may be allowed to devote themselves to each other.

Besides, the outsiders that come with giant wooden ships from the sea and settle in the clearings would hate the idea, oh they know that first hand! So maybe, just to spite the Pākehā, their chief will grant them their small wish.

They would not be asking for much, but it’s still way too early for that.

 

~~** 18 **~~

 

“We’ve been worse.”

The Child of Apollo turns to look him in the eye with such a deadpan apathy it almost looks like he’s trying to erect a wall between them after hearing such a stupid comment.

A bomb falls somewhere nearby, making dirt and mud rain into the trench and their ears ring after the deafening impact.

“I doubt it. This is officially the worst war I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in hundreds of them. At least you are lucky you are not French.”

“Yeah, you got it worse on that front.” The Child of Poseidon laughs feebly. His feet are freezing and wet, his entire body cold and trembling from time to time. There are dark spots between his eyes when he focuses on the distance for too long. He’s also been coughing and sneezing for days. It’s tedious, but his dear friend is almost worse off. They agree that they haven’t felt this bad since that time they caught the Black Death. But what will you do? They can’t leave the trenches, can’t leave the muddy outskirts of the Somme, where they’ve been trapped for months. Four years of war, for years of pain, exhaustion and only a few weeks after finding each other again.

But they both know that this cough doesn’t sound good. They will meet in the next life and if it’s enemy munition what ends their lives this time and not the tedious illness, they will both thank Ares for that small mercy.

 

~~** 19 **~~

 

“This is an intervention.”

They both stare at the other players in their soccer team, the child of Apollo (Although his father is just a tax accountant in this life, but who cares?) crosses his arms over his chest. So what if he and that useless forward can’t stand each other? He is arrogant, individualistic, undermines the role of defenders and thinks he’s the hottest shit since sliced bread. And okay, maybe he _is_ hot, but whatever, apparently _“their fights and arguments disservice the team”_ and that _“if we lose the next match in the district league it will be your damn fault.”_

Then their Goalkeeper’s stupid girlfriend had an idea and now they are presented with an oversized tee where somebody wrote _“our get along shirt”_ with spray. (Probably Gilbert, that grafitti hooligan).

But their coach is staring down at them with thundering ice in his eyes so, reluctantly, they try to wriggle together into it, more afraid of him than of the humiliation. It’s too tight, and the other idiot digs his elbow into his ribs so the child of Apollo yelps and tries to push at his hip with the hand that is hidden by the shirt.

“Aw! you scratched me, you assho-”

The Child of Poseidon freezes, millennia of memories from times past hitting his adolescent brain like a freight train. He starts shaking, blood and gore flashing behind his eyes, but it’s the other boy who pukes, doubling over and unbalancing them, making them both tumble sideways and scream as they flail and hit the floor in the middle of the commotion and mocking laughs.

For some reason that changes little. They don’t develop feelings for each other quickly and mostly keep it casual. It could have worked well, but there is problem - the early 80’s in the US weren’t the best time for being a young gay man.

 

~~**20**~~

 

The child of Apollo walks into the operating room; a mask over her face and a tight blue plastic hat covering her hair. Every inch of her is as sterile as expected of her customary work ensemble, consisting of the surgeon’s pajama and the gloves she puts on as she glances down at the sedated patient on her table. The nurses frill around, exchanging instructions and making the last preparations as she reads over the patient’s file.

It’s a simple operation. So customary she’d be able to do it with her eyes closed.

“Let’s get this started. Scalpel” She orders, and it’s promptly deposited on her palm. Carefully feeling the area where she needs to cut, she makes the first incision with perfect precision. But then her hands start shaking, the scalpel sinking into the organ underneath the skin and tearing down an open, uneven wound as blood starts gushing out. She is overwhelmed by the influx of memories, tumbling on her feet and losing balance as the interns shout over her head.

_“Doctor Fernández! Doctor Fernández!”_

_“Somebody get her out of here!”_

_“Call Bonnefoy! We need to stop the hemorrhage!”_

_“The patient is losing blood! The monitor is-”_

She passes out.

 

The sun is shily peering through the curtains when she walks into the room three days later, her heels marking the barely audible rhythm of her hesitant steps, a jar with flowers in her arms that she leaves on the bedside table. She sits on the edge of the bed, studying over the features of her patient. She is slender, with long blond hair that her sisters arranged into two ponytails, thin nose, thick eyebrows and freckled cheeks...

A commotion outside distracts her, but it doesn’t sound like anything important, just the interns having fun. Somebody else will tell them to be quiet. However, when she turns back, the other woman is looking at her with hooded, glassed-over eyes. Her gaze becomes clearer as she blinks a couple of times.

“I heard you almost killed me, again.” Her voice sounds dry and hoarse.

“Oh, cry me a river.” The Child of apollo smiles, and reaches out to gently hold the other’s wrist when she tries to take out the nasal cannula. “No, leave this.” She stands up to go in search of ice chips and offers them to her patient one by one.

“Alice Kirkland.”

“Hm?”

“My name, now.”

“I know, We met before your surgery, remember?.” She chuckles.

Alice frowns, shifting through her memories, new and old.

“Oh right. Carmen Fernández don-now what else.”

“Carriedo.”

“Right. You owe me a dinner.”

“Why’s that?”

“The almost killing.”

“Would have evened out our count. Carmen laughs. “But you are lucky Franzine was on shift, she saved you. I really don’t know what got into me this time…” She’s got a sunny disposition in this life, Alice notices. Also a curvy figure and tan skin framed by dark locks. Although that’s her most usual combination, no matter the time and the form.  

“You are still in time. Take me on a date, I’ve been told I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“I can believe that.” She grins, but leans down to kiss Alice’s forehead. “You need to get better first tho.”

“Will you be taking care of me?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, I’m dead.”

 

 

* * *

 [ENDNOTES]

* * *

0-  Nemesis (Invidia) is the Goddess that enacts retribution against those who succumb to hubris (arrogance before the gods).

1- They are supposed to be barbarians of Pre-roman central/eastern Europe. 

2- Idk, probably some Celtic village but could be anywhere else, idk, even China if you want. 

3- Trajan and his successor Hadrian were emperors that rose to their title thanks “the Hispanic mafia of Rome” (The overwhelming number of senators, generals and men of influence from Hispania, in particular Baetica, that practically ruled the Roman Empire before and during the Antonine dynasty.) 

4- 

5- Straight from wiki (bc I’m lazy) : [Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar (c. 1043 – 1099) was a Castilian nobleman and military leader in medieval Spain. The Moors called him ‘El Cid’ and the Christians, ‘El Campeador’.After his death, he became a national hero and the protagonist of the most significant medieval Spanish epic poem,  _[El Cantar de Mio Cid](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cantar_de_Mio_Cid)_.] In May 1094 he finished taking the city and surroundings of Valencia, then ruled by the Caliph Al-Qadir, after a long siege. 

6- I couldn’t fit in there any clear allusion to them being Mongolian nomads of the Chagatai Khanate, sometimes around 1250-1300s. 

7- Idk man, some monks. 

8- Yes, the “blood shed” is the Hymen breaking in this case. Not always happens but often enough and since it was ridiculously considered a proof of virginity in the past, I just had to fit it in xD

9- Huitzilopochtli is one of the main gods of the pre-colombine Mexica empire: the god war, but also, of the sun. Which is why Toni relates him to Apollo, who himself could be quite violent. A macuahuitl is a weapon with obsidian blades and their conversation makes reference to the[ Flower Wars](https://www.historyonthenet.com/aztec-warriors-the-flower-wars/) and the human sacrifices to the gods. Obviously Arthur is a high ranked warrior and Toni is a priest. You can find out more about[ warriors](https://www.historyonthenet.com/aztec-warriors-rank-and-warrior-societies/) and [priests](http://aztecsandtenochtitlan.com/aztec-religion/aztec-priests/) in these links. It’s a highly fascinating read! 

10- Oh boy! So all of you heard about the “Invincible Armada” (It wasn’t called like that) and its defeat. But it’s strangely little known how Elisabeth I sent an Englo-Dutch  _[contra-armada](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_Armada)_  in pursuit of the surviving ships. It failed spectacularly and was brushed under the rug. One of the most iconic events that happened was when the contra-armada tried to take the under-defended town of A Coruña in 1589 and a woman called [María Pita](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mar%C3%ADa_Pita), after seeing her husband die, killed the officer that was carrying the English banner and shouted “Whoever has honour, follow me!“ Many women, older people and youths were inspired by her bravery and charged against the attacker, forcing the English fleet to retreat. 

11- Using their supposed lovers as models was a common practice for Renaissance and Baroque painters, as was being accused of Sodomy, although they were rarely convicted for it. "Socratic love” was a term popularized by Marsilio Ficino that refereed to a homoerotic but platonic bond between men. - obviously the people that embraced the concept were anything but platonic, but that had to be  _proven_ , lol.

12-  IT’S OBVIOUSLY AUSTRIA! xDD I can’t believe I was given the chance to write more SpAus for this exchange  _and didn’t take it!_  Forgive me, oh my star-crossed OTP! T^T

13-

14- I put in Antonio as Blas de Lezo and Arthur as Vernon, fite me! Seriously tho. The (failed) Siege of Cartagena de Indias is just another of those _HOLY SHIT_ moments in history that you should go immediately read about. How can 200 warships and 30.000 trained soldiers lose against 7 boats and some guys on a hill? Well, that’s how! To give you some context:[ this is a long read but an easy one and quite funny](http://www.badassoftheweek.com/blasdelezo.html). (I can’t explain this myself or these end notes will never end)

15- [Gözde](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ottoman_Imperial_Harem#Role_of_the_court_ladies) is a given name, but also used to refer to the lowest rank of the Sultan’s concubines (below the ikbals and the kadins) in the Ottoman Imperial Harem. The Eunuchs were the guards and servants of the girls and the royal family, and held great influence. Lesbian practices [were not tolerated tho](http://royalwomen.tripod.com/id12.html). 

16- 

17- Takatāpui was the word used by the native Māori of New Zealand to refer to “a devoted partner of the same sex” and is now an umbrella term for the Māori that identify as any form of LGBTQ+ They were remarkably okay with gayness and even though a lot of the purpose of women relied on their ability to give birth, they also held a l _ooot_   more responsibilities and power in their society. They didn’t have marriages as westerners understand them but “[family approved unions](https://teara.govt.nz/en/marriage-and-partnering/page-1)”, sorta like blessings. It’s an incredibly interesting culture! 

18- Yeah, yeah... the 1918 Flu Pandemic, WWI, the Second Battle of the Somme, you know it, you studied it in school. 

19- The last part obviously refers to the outbreak of HIV/AIDS )’:   
Sorry.

20- Present times, canon nyotalia names :3 If you are wondering, they will have a prosperous life together, get a cat and bake all the brownies, to make up for the last two times xD

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is it!!! I went overboard with the end notes again and ao3 wouldn't let me post them here... wooops! I hope everything is correct. I knew a lot about some of the cultures and events depicted in here beforehand but had to research about others _from scratch_ and I really hope I haven’t fucking up. (tell me if I did, so I can correct my mistakes). This really took a ton of research tho! I had to leave some of the ideas I had out because the foreign cultures were too complex and I didn't have time to research for too long (and didn't want to half-ass anything). 
> 
> Again, thanks to everyone who helped me with this! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this story, it was incredibly hard to write and I’m not sure how I feel about the result. Kudos and comments would be much appreciated! ♥
> 
> And you can always come to yell at me at [salytierra](http://salytierra.tumblr.com)


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